A Clean Break
by Agent H.E.R.O
Summary: Set during the season 3 christmas special. Thomas Barrow's thoughts while getting beat up and Jimmy's reaction to seeing a bruised under-butler. Rated T for violence
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: This story explores the part of the season 3 christmas special where Thomas gets beat up. It was originally supposed to stay true to the tv show but then I changed it. Probably have one more chapter. Thanks for reasing!

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Thomas couldn't deny it, he still had feelings for Jimmy. He tried to hide them, only allowing himself two or three glances per day at the blond and making sure to sit at least two chairs away from the blond footman.

He knew it was coming, knew by Jimmy's drunken swagger that something was going to happen. When Jimmy flaunted his money, he saw the way the other men looked at him, at the way he had swindled their money.

Another blow landed on his ribs. He groaned, and tried to swing back, missing by an inch. One of the boys leveled him off his feet, smashing him into the wall behind. The blows continued to rain down, mostly to his ribs and face. Underneath the pummeling, Thomas thought of Jimmy. He thought of the first day he arrived, perfect and whole and full of possibilities.

Thomas put his arms up to fight. Now Jimmy hated him, even tried to get him fired. He wondered why he put himself in this position, was the runt worth it? He thought back to the time that he got obnoxiously drunk before working for his Lordship, too young to know any better. He breathed heavily, blood dripping down from the left side of his mouth. He tilted his head back against the cool stones, letting his eyes fall shut. The men left him there, not before taking his money and watch though. He thought he heard Jimmy and some others approaching but his eyes seemed to be glued shut as he fell sideways. He felt someone tap his shoulder. Doctor Clarkson talked, rather loudly for his pounding headache, trying to get him to respond. He couldn't peel his eyes open as hard as he tried and instead a small groan escaped his lips. The good doctor leaned him upright, opening his shirt and feeling his bruised ribs. He hoped Jimmy wasn't watching, no one's abs looked good slouching.

"Definitely broken,"

He felt Mrs. Crawley's soft cotton gloves on his face.

"Thomas, are you with us?"

He couldn't respond, his tongue suddenly unnaturally heavy.

"He'll need some stitches, check his left arm."

Mrs. Crawley applied pressure to the arm, feeling the obviously broken bone.

"He'll need a cast. It seems like a clean break at least."

He felt consciousness slipping, like falling asleep. But they were moving him and each jostle sent a shock through him, keeping him slightly awake. Alfred helped him on his left and Tom on his right. He could hear the doctor tell Alfred to be careful, not to touch his arms and to try not to jab his ribs.

Once they had piled into the car Thomas had fallen unconscious, his head slumped in between his shoulders as Doctor Clarkson and Mrs. Crawley assessed the under butler further.

Alfred carried Thomas bridal style when they arrived at the hospital. Tom had asked if Thomas should be moved to Downton instead, but Clarkson insisted on monitoring him overnight. Jimmy felt guilt creep up on him. Thomas looked dead, the dirt smeared all over his clothes, his head lolling backwards with blood trailing along his jaw and forehead. His arm was cradled against his chest, the other arm hanging from his side with his jacket and shirt torn in various places.

"Lie him down here, go tell Mr. Carson what happened."

Alfred left quickly, but Jimmy stayed, staring at the man who had saved him.

"Something wrong James?"

He shook his head quickly before leaving after Alfred, the image of Thomas crumpled on the examination table permanently seared into his mind.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's note: This chapter has loads of dialogue and not a lot of action. But I promise next chapter will. Next chapter will probably be the last, this story is already longer than I intended. Thanks for the follows and keep reading!

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"He what?" Spluttered Mr. Carson, nearly spilling his tea. Mrs. Hughes followed behind them with Mrs. Patmore

"Those other guys almost did him in! To think, just for his wallet and watch. Lucky Jimmy found him and called for help."

Alfred did most of the talking, Jimmy standing uncharacteristically quiet. Mr. Carson was already getting upset thinking of how to delegate the under-butler's responsibilities between himself and the footmen. Mrs. Hughes took notice of Jimmy's lack of words from the kitchen.

"I suppose Mr. Barrow will have to thank you James."

Jimmy blushed and ducked further behind Alfred.

"I didn't do nothin', just found him lying there."

The butler stood up, his special after dinner tea disrupted and went to his office, changing the plans for tomorrow. Mrs. Hughes stayed though watching the two boys race up the stairs. Jimmy turned around feeling her stare on his back.

"If you ever need to talk James,"

Jimmy tried not to cringe, his footfalls heavy on the stairs after the long night.

"I can't believe what happened to Mr. Barrow!"

The shorter blond sighed, "I don't really want to talk about it Alfred."

The other footman nodded and proceeded to change clothes, preoccupied with his own thoughts. Jimmy couldn't sleep that night.

"Who's going to make me?"

"I am,"

Thomas lunged at the taller man holding Jimmy, effectively switching places with him. He stared at the under-butler, the other two men knocking Thomas senseless. He was too drunk at the time to recognize that Thomas might seriously get hurt or to try and fight them off together. He ran in a haze to find Doctor Clarkson, knocking into people, nearly tripping over his own feet.

"Beat it Jimmy! Run!"

He left Thomas there to take the responsibility for his own actions. He should've gotten beat up, got his money stole, not Thomas. He remembered the way Thomas' body sagged in between Branson's and Alfred's, some of his skin visible beneath the ripped shirt. As the night wore on, Jimmy thought about the other man and hoped he was feeling better.

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Doctor Clarkson came over the next morning, with Thomas on a stretcher, he still hadn't woken up. Mr. Carson tried to keep the staff from staring but they came during the servant's breakfast. Ivy let out a loud gasp. Mr. Bates regarded the man with a frown, holding Anna's hand as they went up the stairs. Even Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes exchanged glances. Jimmy stared at Thomas' face, two black eyes, Once they settled Thomas in, Doctor Clarkson spoke to Mr. Carson in his office.

"Thomas has a very bad concussion, a broken left arm, multiple rib fractures, and a left shin fracture. I've left a crutch he can use for when he wakes up, but under no circumstance is he allowed to work for at least a month. Call me immediately when he wakes up."

Mr. Carson let out a heavy sigh; Thomas Barrow was certainly not an easy employee to deal with. Mrs. Patmore still made a tray for Thomas.

"He's not even awake to eat it!"

"Well if he does wake up, hunger won't be one more of his problems,"

Mrs. Patmore scolded, effectively scaring the hallboy into running upstairs with the tray. Daisy and Ivy engaged in idle gossip, mostly about Thomas while working which Mrs. Patmore put an end to as well.

It became almost an ordinary occurrence as either Alfred or Jimmy brought up trays for Mr. Barrow that would always return untouched. Jimmy read to Thomas each night after his duties, watching as the bruises and cuts slowly started to heal. Mr. Carson and Dr. Clarkson talked quietly in the under-butler's room on the third. The doctor gave him suggestions and warning signs. Jimmy exited his room staring through the crack, watching the two men. Each day ate away at him more and more until the fifth day when Jimmy kept fidgeting more and more at the table during dinner.

"James you will sit still this instantly or be excused from the table!"

Mr. Carson's harsh reprimand made him jump out of his seat.

"Mrs. Hughes may I talk with you please?"

Everyone exchanged confused looks, but Mrs. Hughes walked with Jimmy to her office, seeming to realize what was coming. As soon as she closed the door he started talking.

"ItwasmyfaultMrsHughesTheywantedtohurtmetakemymone yDuringthetugofwar"

She held up a hand to stop the influx of words.

"Take a deep breath, now explain slowly."

He did as he was told, inhaling slowly, and exhaling the same way.

"Those men were after _me_ Mrs. Hughes. I won their money from them in during the tug of war and they-they wanted it back."

She arched an eyebrow.

"And instead of staying and fighting with him you ran off?"

She didn't mean for the words to come out as they did, sounding crueler than she meant. He stared down at the floor, memorizing the rug pattern.

"He told me to, I-I didn't know what else to do!"

Blood rushed to his face, a blush settling on his cheeks, the same blush that he'd caught Thomas stare at more than once. She gave him a cup of earl grey tea, noticing his shaking hands.

"You got help didn't you?"

"Yes but-"

"The doctor says Thomas should wake up any day now. He cares for you James, that's all,"

Jimmy stared at the tea in his cup, sloshing it around until some spilled out on the carpet. Mrs. Hughes put a hand on his shoulder, giving him a sad smile.

"I just feel so guilty Mrs. Hughes. I don't know what to do."

The footman in front of him seemed to shrink, his back was hunched, hands cradling the porcelain cup, eyes cast downward.

"Thomas was helping you, he wanted you to get away unscathed. It's not like he's dead."

Jimmy glanced up then, setting the tea on the table.

"I suppose you're right Mrs. Hughes. Thank you,"

He stood and walked out then, shutting the door quietly in his wake.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's note: Last chapter! Sorry it took a while to update. Thank you for reading and sorry for the grammatical errors.

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It was on the sixth day that Thomas woke up. His head pounded, his mouth was dry, and he hadn't a clue why he was still in bed when it was midday. He noticed his arm, throbbing in a white cast. When he tried to get out of bed his left leg completely buckled, leaving him on the floor. His right arm, the one that wasn't injured clawed at the night table as his right leg took most of his weight. He managed to get into a sitting position, his breaths coming rapidly and his chest hurting. The room started spinning so he leaned his head against the table, staring at the one object not moving, the floor. Someone ran into his room then. If he concentrated he would've heard the sound of uneven footsteps that belonged to a particular valet.

"Thomas, you're awake!"

He glanced up, feeling for all the world like his head was about to roll off his shoulders.

"Mr. Bates?"

The older man lifted the under butler on the other side as Thomas gripped his mattress. Together he fell against the cot, sweat shinning on his forehead.

"What's wrong with me?"

Mr. Bates stared at him, unsure if he was playing one of his jokes.

"Do you remember the fair?"

Thomas squeezed his hands over his head, the sudden memories flooding his brain like a bursting dam.

"I'm calling for doctor Clarkson,"

The valet left and Thomas sat alone with his thoughts. His hands shook, one of them partially covered by the cast, the other clearly showed his bullet wound. Groaning, he lay back, the world falling back into place. He closed his eyes for what felt like a minute but the next thing he knew the doctor was waking him up.

"Thomas, can you say a few words?"

It felt like there were cotton balls in his mouth making it extremely hard to respond to his task.

"What is wrong"

He took another breath

"With me?"

Richard shined the pen light in his eyes, noticing similar size pupils.

"Your concussion seems better. I wouldn't try walking on that leg again though, your shin can't take it."

Richard lifted up his shirt to reveal a black and blue chest. The doctor's hands were cold against his bare skin. The fingers prodded under his ribs making him gasp.

"Your ribs are a bit better, but I don't want you moving till the end of the week, by which time they'll be set in properly to heal."

Thomas nodded meekly as Doctor Clarkson put his things away. He also set a bottle of medicine with instructions on the side. The under butler fell asleep almost immediately after he left.

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"But I want to see Mr. Barrow!"

Mr. Carson handed the next dish to Jimmy and the following to Alfred.

"He's not allowed to see any visitors till tomorrow afternoon. There are no exceptions."

With that Carson led the footmen upstairs into the dinning room. The earl and the rest of his family were having a quiet dinner until Lord Grantham spoke up.

"How's Thomas doing, Carson?"

Carson looked at Robert, weighing his words carefully before he spoke.

"Rather poorly I'm afraid sir."

The earl took a bit before asking when he would be back to work.

"The doctor said a minimum of one month."

Jimmy fidgeted in place, pulling on his left glove. Carson shot him a look to kill. He gulped and reluctantly stood still.

After serving, Jimmy mentally prepared himself for Carson's upbraiding.

"James if you cannot control your hands or any of your other body parts I would suggest that you find another job and quickly." He continued on and on, each word meant to be a punishment.

James felt the sweat rolling down the side of his face, running into his collar. He smelled the remains of the salmon dinner, his stomach growled. His guilt beat out his hunger though. He was just about to open his mouth, to confess in front of everyone that Thomas saved him when Mrs. Hughes walked in.

"Mr. Carson can't you do this after the servant's dinner?"

The butler sat down at the head of the table, Daisy and Ivy came out to serve the dinner. Alfred kept looking at Jimmy, trying to catch his eye but James kept staring at his food, barely eating. On his way up to bed his hand grazed Thomas' door. This small piece of wood was keeping him from seeing the one person who could absolve him of his guilt. Slowly, very slowly, he crept into the under butler's room. He pushed open the door first, cringing when he heard the creak of the door. Checking to make sure no one else was looking he slipped into the room. Thomas' breath was audible, the cast from his left arm visible under the sheets. His face was less of a mess, the black eyes and cuts almost gone. It was funny how Jimmy conjured the image of Thomas leaning over him, that one night so long ago and yet Jimmy still held a grudge against him, almost a year later. He put his hand on Thomas' shoulder, wondering whether or not to actually wake him. His cotton pajamas felt soft under his hand and he could smell the tobacco on his clothes.

Thomas groaned in his sleep, his good hand moving to his rib cage. Jimmy felt the back of Thomas' forehead, noting the slight fever. His hand brushed against the under butler's black bangs. The older man stirred beneath the covers, his blue eyes finally opening to find Jimmy standing over him. Hastily, he tried sitting up but stopped, feeling his ribs twinge.

"You shouldn't have done that,"

Thomas, still half asleep glanced up lazily.

"Jim-James, what are you doing up here?"

"Why'd you do that, at the fair?"

Thomas' eyes rolled.

"You know why"

There was an awkward silence, his breathing disrupting the otherwise quiet night.

"I can never give you what you want,"

Jimmy's voice shook, one of his hands open, seeming to plead with Thomas for forgiveness he never asked.

"I understand that, I do. And I don't ask for it. I'd like it if we could be friends."

Jimmy stiffened then, his shoulders pinching up, muscles tense. This scene was all wrong. Thomas should be mad at him, should be upset, not talking to him until Jimmy begged for forgiveness. The footman turned angry then, why was Thomas still so nice to him?

"I-I-I'm sorry okay? There I said it. I never asked you to save me. Why can't you just leave me alone? I don't like men and I never will."

Thomas looked pained. His eyes roamed around the room as if trying to find an escape route.

"Can we talk about this tomorrow-"

Jimmy cut him off then, kissing Thomas.


End file.
